Dead or Alive
by Chou
Summary: The ongoing adventures of Gill Bastar, gunslinger extraordinaire (From WANTED!)
1. Never Drink Whiskey, Part 1

Disclaimer: Gill Bastar belongs to Oda-sensei, and is from the kick ass story WANTED!, which is pre OP. I've set the WANTED universe in the Gunslinger Era of the One Piece world, which is a good bit after the Pirate Era. That's my decision, and nothing really backs it up other than Oda writing both. As such though, there may be some references to OP, and maybe even some distant descendants…all of which are my own doing. Also note that this takes place before the actual Wanted story.   
  
That just might be the longest disclaimer I've written :)  
  
Dead or Alive  
by Chou  
  
Chapter 1  - Never Drink Whiskey, Part 1  
  
Even the most hardened gunslinger, the roughest sheriff, or the toughest rustler would admit that there was something special about sunrises on out in the desert. The way the sun just lit up the landscape, maybe. Or maybe it was the way the sky sparkled golden for a moment before settling into the purest baby blue. It was indescribable really, but not a sight to be missed. And the sunrise today was a thing of beauty to surpass all beauties, as it lit the sky in golden fire and made its majestic presence known to the world.  
  
Gill Bastar, gunslinger extraordinaire, rolled over in his sleeping bag, muttered a few curses about the light in his eyes, and went back to dreaming about pretty bar girls and people not trying to kill him for money.  
  
  
Nobody noticed the young man in the black hat and sunglasses as he strolled into town, a bag slung over his shoulder. It was a busy, prosperous town, after all, almost a city, with a population of about a hundred strong. Gill sauntered through double doors into the nearest saloon, removing his sunglasses in the dim interior. The bartender glanced up from a glass she was cleaning.  
  
"What's yer poison, mister?" she asked with a grin.  
  
"A bottle of Itoo, ma'am." He said, smiling and tipping his hat back a bit with one finger.  
  
She set it on the bar and moved on to serve other patrons. Gill looked around the noisy bar. A pianist butchered a tune while a drunk next to him sang dirty lyrics to the song in an off key tune. A poker game was going on, and although the players seemed to be as skilled as five year olds, Gill didn't feel like joining in. Something felt…off about this town. The other patrons chatted happily and drank to the gills. Nothing seemed weird, but Gill's instincts told him that something wasn't right here.  
  
When he turned back to his drink, and the gun barrel in his face, he knew he was right.  
  
"Hello, Gill Bastar. Welcome to Whiskey Town." The bartender said, smiling sweetly. From behind him, Gill heard the sound of guns being drawn and cocked. A glance to the door showed him that people were waiting outside, as well. Gill thought about all this as he returned his attention to the unwavering gun in his face.  
  
He sighed. "Well, shit."   
  
Then the shooting started.   
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Yeah, a short chapter, but this is just the set up for the Whiskey Arc. Next chapter is where it gets good, honest.  
  
Whiskey Town IS related to Whiskey Peak. Baroque Works, being such a far-reaching organization, had several Whiskey spots under its belt. One of them just happened to be on the Red Line and evolved into a Western Town.   
  
Dead or Alive isn't one contained chapter story, it's more like a manga, where I have arcs and one chapter stories under a general heading.   
  



	2. Never Drink Whiskey, Part 2

Dead or Alive  
by Chou  
  


Chapter 2  - Never Drink Whiskey, Part 2  
  
Gill thought carefully about his situation. Simply put, it sucked. The whole bar was filled with gunmen aiming at him, and there were even more outside. He had faced bad odds before though…well, not this bad, but whatever. So as he saw the bartender's finger tighten on the trigger, he got ready to act.  
  
He had one of his twin six shooters in his hand right before the bartender's bullet passed through the air where his head had been. Gill didn't particularly like killing, especially women, even if they were trying to kill him.   
  
"Besides," he thought to himself as he dived behind the bar, taking the surprised bartender to the floor with him, "there's a shortage of pretty bartenders in this world as it is…"  
  
Before she could move, he struck her temple with the butt of his pistol, knocking her out. Above him the bottles behind the bar exploded as hot lead poured into them, showering him with alcohol and broken glass.  
  
"Man, what a waste of good liquor." He muttered, fixing his hat and drawing his other six shooter.   
  
The shooting stopped for a moment, and Gill made his move. Three shots and three men down in the first second as dived from the open end of the bar and stood up. A knocked over table gave him cover to return fire, taking two more down. Bullets ripped chunks out of the table all around him.  
  
"Hey, you guys mind not shooting at me any more?" Gill figured it was worth a shot to just ask. The bar was silent for a moment. Gill waited.  
  
"YES WE DO!" came the unanimous shout of the gunmen as they opened fire with renewed vigor. Gill hung his head and sighed. Well, he had tried. Now he looked for an exit, other than the front door, that is…bingo! An outhouse sign!  
  
Of course, getting there was the problem. Gill took a deep breath, reloaded his six shooters, and ran.   
  
"There he goes! Shoot 'im!" Gill ignored the shouts from the gunmen and the bullets whizzing by his head. He leapt for the door and rolled through it, coming up in a crouch.  
  
Right as the half a dozen men who had been waiting for him aimed for his head.   
  
As a gunslinger, you were either quick or dead. Gill wasn't the dead type.   
  
One of the men managed to get off a shot, grazing Gill's cheek before he shot them all. He raised his finger to his cheek gingerly. They came back wet with blood.   
  
"Ah, damn, that stings!"   
  
Gill stood up and looked around. He was in a large alley, and he could hear footsteps coming from the open end. At the other end, a wooden fence he thought he could jump, with a running start. It wasn't a hard choice. He holstered one of his six shooters and vaulted the fence with his hand, firing behind him at the mouth of the alley, just as the first of the gunmen came in. He tagged one before he landed in a crouch and began running.   
  
"This…" he said between breaths "is one…messed up…town…"  
  
  
Bonnie Lass awoke with the mother of all headaches. Last thing she remembered, she had missed Gill Bastar from two inches away. She couldn't believe it…and then the pervert had jumped her! She knew she was good looking, but…  
  
Why was she all wet?  
  
Slowly she sat up and looked around. Her bar looked like a war zone. The piano player had remained behind, and looked at her in surprise.  
  
"Bonnie!? Yer alive! We thought Gill had killed you!" She ignored him as she looked over the ruins.   
  
Then she saw all the demolished liquor. She realized the wetness was the precious livelihood of her bar.  
  
You haven't heard rage until you've heard the scream of a bartender who's seen their entire stock shot to pieces. Bonnie was a bounty hunter, true, but she always thought of herself as first and foremost a bartender. It was a point of pride.  
  
And even the devil wets his drawers when confronted with an angry bartender.  
  
"GILLLLL BASTARRRRR! I'LL KILL YOU!" she bellowed, grabbing a shotgun from under the wreckage of her bar and rushing out the door. The piano player peeked out from his hiding place, and sighed. He almost felt sorry for that poor bastard…  
  
  
Gill Bastar suppressed a shudder. He didn't know what the hell that inhuman yelling was about, but he had caught his name, and figured that whatever it was, he wasn't going to stick around and meet it. Now, if only he could find some place to hide…  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Honestly, faithful readers, never piss off a bartender. There's a reason why some bars have a sign saying, "Do not ask for credit, for a punch in the mouth often offends."  
  
Oh yeah, this chapter introduces Bonnie Lass, who will be a recurring character throughout and probably after this arc.   
  
Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which stuff gets even worse for our hero!


	3. Never Drink Whiskey, Part 3

Dead or Alive  
by Chou  
  
Chapter 3  - Never Drink Whiskey, Part 3  
  
In retrospect, it had been running out onto the main street that had been the bad move.   
  
A bar of gunmen, hey, that was bad, but it could be manageable. A town of gunmen was ridiculous.   
  
For as long as he lived (which might not be much longer, admittedly), Gill Bastar would never forget the sight of every man, woman, and child on a busy town street pulling a gun on him.   
  
"WHAT! THE HELL! IS WRONG! WITH! THIS! DAMN! TOWN!" Gill shouted as he ran as fast as humanly possible, bullets whizzing around his head. This was nuts! Who ever heard of an entire town trying to kill someone?   
  
It took Gill a few minutes to register that he had run himself a good half-mile out of town. Panic had lent his feet wings. Around him, large plateaus rose to the sky. Gill started to climb one, for the safety and the high ground. When he reached the top, panting and exhausted, the only thing he could do was cover his face with his hat to block out the sun and drift into a deep, quiet sleep.  
  
Which lasted roughly three second before a shotgun shell blew a chunk out of the ledge near his head.   
  
"Gill Bastar!" one of the angriest female voices Gill had ever heard shot to his ears.  
  
"Um, yeah?" he answered, drawing his six shooters but backing away from the ledge.  
  
"Get down here! Now!" came the voice again. Gill was incredulous.  
  
"Are you kidding me!? I don't wanna be shot!" he shouted back down.  
  
"Shooting's too good for you!" this reply startled him.  
  
"Hey lady, indulge me a bit and tell me just what the hell I did that the whole town is trying to kill me!? I mean, jeez! The whole town! I nearly got my ass shot off by a five year old with a derringer, not to mention that nun with the sawed off shotgun! What gives!?"  
  
"We're a bounty hunter town, you nitwit! When a lucrative bounty strolls into town, we kill them and split the profits! But that isn't why I'm here! This is personal!" came the angry voice from below.  
  
Now at least the town thing made sense…well, it explained why they were trying to kill him, but damned if a town of bounty hunters made any sense to him. And hey, he did have a pretty big bounty on his head…it wasn't his fault, but it was there. But what was this about whoever this girl was having a personal grudge?  
  
"Um, excuse me lady, but exactly why is killing me a personal thing for you? I mean, I take it personally, but what's your motive here?"  
  
"You trashed my bar." She said, in a voice like iron. "And" she added in a more indignant tone "you jumped me back in the bar, you pervert! Right on top of me! In the middle of a gunfight!"  
  
Gill stood up and pointed down at her. "Hey, listen here! First of all, I didn't trash your bar! The guys shooting at me did! I wasn't going to stand there and get shot for booze! Second of all, I saved your life! I didn't shoot you, and I knocked you down so you wouldn't get hit with friendly fire! So will you please stop shoot…" He ducked just as she fired with both barrels.  
  
"That was for knocking me down, you lout!" he heard her yell up. "And as for my bar…I guess it's not your fault."  
  
Gill peeked over the edge, as carefully as he could. "So, does that mean you're not going to try and kill me any more?"  
  
She considered this. "Well…that bounty would pay for a new bar…but the guys who trashed it in the first place…they're my top priority." She looked up. Gill looked back at her, noticing details for the first time. Shoulder length hair the color of a sunset, tanned, smooth skin. A nice rack…  
  
"Hey! Stop looking at my chest!"   
  
Gill shook his head, embarrassed. "I was not! Honest!"  
  
He pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the edge. "So, anyway, what was that about the guys who really trashed your bar?"  
  
She shrugged "Hey, I just joined a few weeks ago after their old bartender took a knife. So I'm not all that loyal to them, and besides, my dad was a bartender, his dad was a bartender, his mom was a bartender, her dad…well, spent a lot of time in bars, anyway. Bartending is my true love! Although…" she added with a wicked grin "I'm not too bad at shooting, either."  
  
Gill coughed "I noticed. So…can I come down now?"  
  
She nodded, and he climbed down quickly, jumping the last six feet to the ground.  
  
"Shall we?" she said with a sweet smile. She slung her shotgun over her shoulder and started walking. Gill shrugged, sighed, and adjusted his hat before following. Together, they began the long walk to Whiskey, and whatever fate awaited them there.  
  
  
It was cool inside the house, but the bounty hunters of Whiskey were still sweating. Their boss had that effect. So did rattlesnakes or any other dangerous animal. It was an easy comparison to make.  
  
"You mean to tell me…not only did Gill Bastar escape…but that the bar wench we just hired has joined him?"  
  
The bounty hunter the group had delegated for a speaker gulped and nodded. "Yuh-yes, sir, Mr. Tucoruco, sir."  
  
"I see." The man they called Tuco Tucoruco said, thoughtfully. 'They' being his parents, by the way. Everyone else called him Mr. Tucoruco.   
  
He was the mayor of Whiskey. Unlike most mayors, this hadn't been a title won in election. It had been won when the previous mayor had a foot long knife put in him by Tucoruco. He was good with knives. Some said he could throw them faster than most men could draw and fire their guns.  This wasn't entirely true.   
  
The truth was, he could throw about three knives by the time most men drew their guns.  
  
Needless to say, Gill Bastar was in for a lot of trouble.  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Gill and Bonnie vs. Whiskey! Gill vs. Tuco Tucoruco! What shocking, amazing, or incredibly weird things will happen in our next exciting chapter?  
  
Oh wait. I told you already, kinda, with all the vs. stuff.  
  
Anyway, thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I'm glad to see everyone's enjoying this fic, since I enjoy writing it :)  
  
Mango mentioned that this was a lot like Trigun, only Gill kills while Vash doesn't. Well, that's because the fic was conceived and the first two chapters written while I was on a Trigun bender. So yes, there's a lot of Trigunny elements to it, but hopefully, there's a good deal of Oda-sensei style in it too.  
  
And Stacey-san, you're making me blush with those comments about my action scenes. And I too am mystified that you like Bonnie. The reason escapes me.  
  
Bonnie is actually a mix of, off the top of my head, Makino, Nami, and a character in a webcomic I'm working on named Rose. Which explains why she's so bloody cool.   
  
And finally, Tuco Tucoruco is inspired by the character of Tuco in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (he's The Ugly), at least in name. In character, he's simply a bad version of the knife thrower in The Magnificent Seven Samurai, er Gunslingers. Hey, come to think of it, the guy who played Tuco was in that flick too…


	4. Never Drink Whiskey, Part 4

Dead or Alive  
by Chou  
  
Chapter 3  - Never Drink Whiskey, Part 4  
  
They walked into town with steel in their eyes, shoulder to shoulder, guns ready and looking for a fight. The Devil himself would've gulped a bit at the sight of Gill Bastar and Bonnie Lass.  
  
Tuco Tucoruco wasn't the Devil. He was a lot less red, for one thing. And he threw knives, which was a much more practical weapon than a pitchfork.  
  
The bounty hunter town of Whiskey was not Hell, for that matter. It was a business, pure and simple. Not a pleasant business, but a business none the less.   
  
So, it's one thing to intimidate the Devil. Intimidating a little less than a hundred armed people is much more daunting.  
  
Neither Gill nor Bonnie was up to the task. The good news is that they were not shot on sight. The bad news is that being hogtied and thrown to the dirt, while less lethal than being shot, still isn't a pleasant experience.  
  
  
"Well", thought Gill Bastar, gunslinger extraordinaire, "at least I'm still alive." He was trying to be optimistic. With his bad luck, he had made optimism into an art form, and often it had kept him alive.  
  
Next to him, hogtied as well, Bonnie was directing language that he didn't often hear from ladies, or even men, at their captors.  
  
He craned his neck to look at the man he assumed ran this operation. He was a thin man with skin like slightly used leather, dark hair and a long mustache, loose clothes and a wide brimmed hat, rugged in a way that was entirely unhandsome. Gill noted the way he played with the eight-inch knife in his hand, throwing it up and catching it without even looking at it. Gill was mildly impressed. He probably would've been more impressed if he hadn't been expecting the knife to go into his head at some point.  
  
Bonnie had moved on from curses to threats. Gill was amazed at her imagination, especially when it came to thinking of items he was sure would be both painful and physically impossible to put where he said she was going to. He turned his attention back to the boss.  
  
Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air, a twanging thud, and Bonnie fell silent. Gill rolled and looked over at her, then back at the boss. His knife had sheathed itself in the ground less than an inch from Bonnie's head, surprising her into silence. That wasn't what worried Gill. What worried him was the fact that he had been looking right at the boss when it happened…_and he hadn't seen him throw the knife_. One second it was there, the next, not. That was fast even by Gill's standards, and Gill could usually spot hummingbird wings moving if he looked just a bit close.   
  
"Now." Said the boss as he walked over and retrieved his knife. "If I am not mistaken, you are the gunslinger Gill Bastar, no? Your bounty is…quite impressive for such an unimpressive looking man." He smiled, revealing square, white teeth.  
  
Gill shrugged as best he could and tried to sound nonchalant. "Yep, but I shouldn't have that bounty, considering those guys were the ones who always started the fights. In any case, you know who I am…but who are you?"  
  
"My name is Tuco Tucoruco, Senor Bastar. You could say I am the Mayor here." Said the boss, idly playing with his knife in one hand and stroking his mustache with the other.  
  
"Nice town you have here. I'd want to stay if everyone wasn't shooing at me." Gill said.  
  
"Yes, well, we try to be accommodating, but the shooting, it is the downside, you know?" Tucoruco shrugged.  
  
"Boy howdy. So, how about letting me go? Gill said quickly, then added, almost as an after thought, "And her too, come to think of it." He could feel her glare at his back lessening at that.  
  
Tucoruco laughed, rich and full and rather evilly.   
  
"It is good to see a man with a sense of humor in your position." Said Tucoruco when his breath returned.  
  
He turned serious "No, Senor Bastar, you will not be let go. There is too much money on your head for that. And as for the woman…well, she is a traitor. I have never abided traitors."  
  
Gill's mind raced for a solution. Several ideas came, none of which seemed remotely possible. Then he went to his last resort.  
  
"Wanna draw?" he said with a level look in Tucoruco's vaguely bloodshot eye.  
  
Tucoruco paused and thought about it.  
  
Then he smiled.  
  
"I don't see why not. You seem to think that you will escape if you can shoot me. You seem to forget the many armed people around you who will not let that happen."  
  
"Oh, shit." Was all Gill could think. "Forgot about the people."  
  
"Hey, what about me!?" Bonnie had found her voice again.  
  
Gill looked over "Um, I'll think of something. Trust me?"  
  
Bonnie rolled her eyes. "I'm screwed."  
  
  
The main street was empty, except for Gill, now untied and rubbing his wrists, his guns in his pockets, and Tucoruco, knife in a sheath on his hip.  
  
Now, along the street were the townsfolk assassins, several keeping the now tied to a post to watch Bonnie under guard, the rest watching the two men in the street.  
  
Gill stopped rubbing his wrists and let his hands drift towards his guns. Tucoruco tugged on his mustache with one hand, the other hand, closer to the knife, ready to grab and throw it.  
  
A tumbleweed began it's slow roll between the two combatants. The moment it had passed between them…  
  
"DRAW!" shouted someone.  
  
Gill fell back as he drew his revolvers, thumbs cocking the hammers in a fluid motion. Tucoruco's knife tore the hat off his head and drew blood from his hairline.  
  
The revolver in Gill's right hand fired at Tucoruco. The other revolver was aimed to the side, the bullet ripping through the rope holding Bonnie to the post and freeing her. She fought her way though the surprised guards and ran away.  
  
That's when Gill noticed Tucoruco was still standing. That fact had barely registered when a second knife he didn't even see coming buried itself deep into his left bicep. Gill choked back a yell and rolled to his feet before firing both guns at Tucoruco, who he now noticed had two more knives in his hands.  
  
"Where the hell is he getting those?!" Gill's mind yelled as he saw the knives suddenly disappear.  
  
Two more knives dug themselves into each shoulder. This time, Gill did yell as he fell to the ground. When he looked up through pain clouded eyes, he couldn't believe what he saw.  
  
A bullet was a few yards from him on the ground. It had been cut in half.   
  
Nobody was that fast. Or that accurate. It was impossible.  
  
Somewhere, as if from a great distance, he could hear Tucoruco laughing. He could hear the townspeople assassin folk laughing. He even thought he could hear the blood pumping into his shirt, which was white and relatively new.   
  
"Do you give up, Bastar? Time to die, no?"  
  
He had had enough. It took a lot to get him angry. This worked.  
  
He staggered to his feet, pulling the knives out and tossing them to the ground. It hurt like fire, but at this point, he didn't care. He wiped the blood from his eyes that had flowed from the cut the first knife had made. He slowly reloaded his guns, before spinning them by the trigger guard around his fingers before jamming them into his pockets.   
  
"Round two." spat Gill.   
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Next chapter's the last one. Probably. Then we move onto a new story arc. Probably.  
  
To be honest, I'm starting to run out of steam on this fic (its all going to Talking Blues, curse it's jazzy hide), but a few Clint Eastwood spaghetti Westerns and a Trigun soundtrack should get me back in the swing.   
  
Anyway, next chapter, Gill and Tucoruco finish, and we find out where Bonnie's run off to (she'll be back)


End file.
